The Wings of Dragons: Book One of the Dragoon Saga (17 page)

Zuberi raised his behemoth blade and
grinned, utterly unfazed as he initiated a relentless assault. The
Quodivar leader wielded his ridiculously heavy sword as though it
were as dainty as Rondel’s dagger. With each insane swing, he
pushed Iren farther and farther back.

Even Akaku’s mighty spruces didn’t impede
Zuberi. His slashes cut through their trunks in a single pass. Soon
Iren not only had to dodge the blade, but the old growth timbers
crashing to the ground all around him.

The young Maantec grimaced. Unlike the
Yokai, Zuberi neither slowed nor tired. Adding to the problem, the
Quodivar leader battled fully rested, while Iren had fought twice
already this morning. His natural Maantec abilities did little to
compensate.

His size disadvantage didn’t help much
either. With Zuberi’s long arms and even longer sword, he could
strike at Iren with impunity. More than once Iren tried getting in
close, where the massive blade’s size would work against his foe.
That strategy failed, however, because Zuberi could swing so fast
that Iren never had time between blows to maneuver for a
counterattack.

As the fight went from bad to worse, Iren
tripped over a fallen tree and fell on his back. Before he could
stand again, the Quodivar leader’s sword filled his vision. To
Iren’s surprise, instead of delivering the lethal blow, Zuberi
said, “I offered you power. I offered you acceptance. No one has
ever lasted this long against me. Why turn me down? Why die
meaninglessly here?”

Even in defeat, Iren remained defiant. “Join
you? You killed my parents!”

Zuberi let out his bellowing laugh again.
“Afraid you’ll have to be a little more specific. I’ve killed a lot
of people’s parents.”

Iren gritted his teeth, trying to figure out
how he could escape. He gripped the Muryozaki, intending to knock
Zuberi’s weapon aside. The Quodivar leader must have deciphered his
plan, though, because with a swift kick, Zuberi knocked the katana
out of Iren’s hand.

The young Maantec panted frantically. He had
no weapon, and without the Muryozaki, he couldn’t access Divinion’s
magic. Not that healing would do much good against a direct hit
from Zuberi. Stalling for time, he shouted, “Seventeen years ago,
in Tropos Village, you slew my parents in the night! They were just
simple farmers, yet you murdered them! What had they ever done to
you? You claim you want acceptance for Maantecs, but you don’t mean
it. You killed them in cold blood!”

For the first time, Zuberi hesitated.
Wrinkling his brow, he answered, “Well, if that’s your reason, it’s
a poor one. Seventeen years ago in Tropos Village? At that time, I
was no older than you are now. I was a brand new Tacumsahen pirate,
as green as they get, setting sail to glory. I never even stepped
foot on Lodian soil until ten years ago.”

“
You’re lying!”

The giant shrugged. “Believe what you want.
You won’t live long enough to decide anyway.” He raised his sword,
but the death blow never came. A blue spark suddenly jumped across
the blade, arcing up its length and striking Zuberi in the chest.
The impact threw the Quodivar leader back thirty feet, rolling in
the dirt.

Iren stumbled to his feet and glanced to his
right. Rondel stood among the trees, her hair and outfit
smoldering.

She didn’t look at all like the Rondel he
remembered. After the fights in the cave, she hadn’t lost her
breath or appeared tired in the slightest. Now she gasped for air,
and her right hand braced against a nearby spruce for support. Even
her Lightning Sight had faded.

“
I told you to get moving,
slacker,” she wheezed. “What on Raa are you still doing
here?”

Iren scowled and opened his mouth for a
sarcastic comeback, but he didn’t have time. Behind Rondel, a burst
of flame erupted within the forest. From the center of the inferno,
the Oni, Hezna as Iren recalled Zuberi calling him, emerged. The
monster’s yellow eyes and red hair danced in the foul light. His
sword glowed like a poker.

Beside Hezna, Zuberi rose, using his sword
to balance himself. The pair squared off against Rondel, who
positioned herself between her foes and Iren.

“
Hurry!” she called, not
bothering to turn around. She held her tiny dagger aloft. It looked
pathetic compared with Hezna’s and Zuberi’s weapons. “Get out of
here!”

Iren’s breathing halted as he realized what
she was doing. In her condition, she couldn’t defeat both enemies.
He couldn’t let her fight alone! He took a few steps toward the
Muryozaki. Dizziness took him, and he dropped to his knees.

Rondel glanced over her shoulder. “What are
you waiting for?”

The momentary distraction was enough. Zuberi
and Hezna charged her. Rondel leapt aside, but just barely. She
moved remarkably slower than when she’d fought the Quodivar in
Veliaf. More unsettling, though, was how nothing of her former
confident, smirking attitude remained. Instead, she looked haggard
and worn.

The battle ended in an instant. A sideswipe
from Zuberi’s blade forced her to jump away, and as she landed, the
Oni reached her. He struck her in the face with his elbow, and she
collapsed. As she fell, her dagger dropped from her grip and rolled
down a small incline, stopping at the Oni’s feet. He picked it up,
all but invisible in his clawed fist. Laughing cruelly, Zuberi
walked over and gave her limp form a swift kick, sending her flying
through the air and landing just a few yards from where Iren still
knelt.

Iren stared in shock at Rondel’s motionless
body. He crawled to her, feeling for any sign of a pulse. He found
none. Her eyes stared emptily into the canopy, unblinking.

No. No. No. The word repeated itself
endlessly in his head. Soon he started saying it aloud, faster and
faster, a constant chant of anguish and disbelief. Tears fell
freely from his face. He’d never cried for another person in his
whole life. Now he couldn’t stop.

A pair of shadows enveloped him. Looking up,
he saw Zuberi and Hezna silhouetted by the fire behind them. They
looked at him with unrepentant glee, and then as one, their swords
crashed down to end his life just as they had the old hag’s.

A foot from his face, however, their weapons
stopped short as a blinding light surrounded Iren. Barely conscious
of what he was doing, Iren got to his feet, fists clenched, all
hint of tiredness gone. His eyes burned bright white. With fear in
their faces, the pair of murderers stumbled backwards.

Iren cocked his left arm as though about to
punch, his hand glowing just like his eyes. As he threw his fist
forward, a shining beam of white light lanced out of it. The attack
struck Hezna a glancing blow, knocking the Oni sideways and into a
tree. Zuberi wasn’t as fortunate. The beam hit him at full force,
and as it did, it took the form of a great reptilian mouth. It
clamped down on Zuberi’s body, crushing his armor, lifting him off
the ground, and sending him rocketing through the forest, snapping
tree trunks as easily as dried twigs. When the beam at last
dissipated, the Quodivar leader crumpled to the ground and did not
rise again.

Iren placed his hands on his knees, chest
heaving. He had no idea what had just happened. Still, he knew one
thing clearly. He’d gotten his revenge.

He had little time to celebrate as he fell
forward next to Rondel, utterly spent. All feeling left his body.
In a distant corner of his mind, he wondered about the beam. He
didn’t have the Muryozaki, and Rondel had said the sword connected
him to Divinion. It was impossible to unleash the dragon’s magic
without holding the katana, yet he’d just done exactly that.

He would have to remember to ask her about
it, when he saw her shortly in the next life.

As the seconds passed, though, he remained
in the living world. A pressure rubbed against his face, and
through the firelight he saw Nightraid’s muzzle. He managed a faint
smile. “What, now you feel like listening?” The horse whinnied
softly and nuzzled him harder. By a great force of will, Iren
clasped a stirrup with his right hand.

“
West,” he murmured, but
that single word sapped his last reserves. He closed his eyes and
remembered no more.

* * *

Balear could finally move again, although he
far preferred the numbness from earlier. At least then, he didn’t
need to deal with every muscle screaming at him. Despite it, he
pushed through the pain, determined. Dirio had come by already,
trailed by Veliaf’s populace. They’d offered to carry him back to
the village, but he’d declined. He couldn’t go back yet, because
the one person in all of Lodia that Balear wanted to walk by
hadn’t: Captain Angustion.

With extreme effort, Balear dragged himself
down the tunnel and deeper into the cavern. On each step, he
repeated the same word in his head, a mantra meant to force him
onward when his body might otherwise fail him.
Captain . . .

He stopped briefly when he reached the lake
room, but finding the chamber devoid of life, Balear quickly
pressed on. His vision grew hazy, and he needed to stop every
hundred feet just to keep from passing out again. At one point, he
reached a chamber that looked like a study, with a large wooden
writing desk piled high with parchment. Candles lit the room, and
to Balear’s great satisfaction, a comfortable-looking chair sat
next to the desk. Deciding the captain could wait a little longer,
he fell into the seat.

He rested for several minutes, his strength
slowly returning. His breathing calmed, and his vision sharpened.
Absentmindedly, he picked up a few of the sheets on the desk and
rifled through them, reading a few words here and there to test his
eyesight. He’d skimmed several pages when his heart caught in his
chest.

At first he doubted his own eyes, but when
he flipped back to the top page of the stack, there it was. He
would recognize that handwriting anywhere. The blocky script
perfectly matched that on Rondel’s waiver before they’d left
Haldessa. He hastily shifted his gaze to the bottom of the page,
where, sure enough, he found Rondel’s signature.

He furrowed his brow, confused as to why the
Quodivar would have writing of Rondel’s. It looked recent, too. The
date at the top matched the day they began this mission.

The fact that he sat alone and vulnerable in
the heart of the enemy’s base no longer bothered him. Even the need
to find Captain Angustion vanished. All Balear’s attention focused
on the page before him. As he read it, his hands shook.

“
Great Leaders of the
Quodivar,” he read, “I send humble greetings. It is time. Amroth,
the fool, comes to kill you in stealth. In so doing, he leaves his
beloved home without a captain to defend it. It is the chance we
have long waited for, to strike Haldessa, obliterating it and its
oafish king.

“
Even with your combined
strength, however, winning will be difficult. Neither of you has
siege weapons capable of toppling Haldessa’s walls, but
fortunately, I know another method. Haldessa’s baths are filled by
a canal which connects to the nearby river. Each day, precisely at
noon, the canal gates open to fill the baths. Strike then. Send an
elite group through one of those tunnels, and they can open the
castle gate, letting the rest of your army into the
castle.

“
I will force Amroth to
bring me with him, to monitor his progress. I also plan to gain us
a new recruit, a Maantec boy named Iren Saitosan, who Amroth
selected for his team. Iren has suffered at the hands of Lodia, and
once he knows his origins, he will surely support us in
revenge.

“
Already tasting success,
Rondel Thara.”

In a flash, events since their mission began
snapped into focus. While Amroth delivered the waivers back at
Haldessa, Rondel had disappeared, ostensibly to get more alcohol.
In reality, the traitorous witch had secretly written this letter
and added it to the morning’s post. Mail carriers traveled fast,
faster than their group had, so of course this letter arrived well
in advance of them. She’d probably sent it to Veliaf, which was
already under Quodivar control. She had convinced Captain Angustion
to bring her along, even though he didn’t want her. Even teaching
Iren had served her own reasons. She’d wanted to gain his trust so
she could convert the ignorant Left to the Quodivar. With the devil
magic the pair of them possessed, Rondel and Iren’s combined
strength would make the Quodivar invincible.

Worst of all, this letter explained why the
cavern had so few defenders. The Quodivar and Yokai were already
marching to Haldessa. The city would be caught completely
unprepared.

“
So now you know,” a grim
voice said from behind him. Balear jumped so high he fell out of
his chair and onto the rock floor. He drew his sword from the
ground, expecting any second to die at Rondel’s blade, but then he
stopped short. Captain Angustion’s pitying stare met his
own.

“
Sir!” Balear was so happy
at seeing his commander alive that for a second he forgot the
terrible letter.

The captain nodded. “I saw you coming from
farther up the tunnel, but I wanted you to learn the truth for
yourself. After they captured me, the Quodivar put my sword in
here. When I stopped to recover it, I saw the letter. I’ve
suspected Rondel for some time, but I could never prove anything.
After all, she did kill quite a few Quodivar along the way. She
clearly has no qualms about sacrificing her allies to achieve her
ultimate goal. But then, why would a Left care about human
lives?”

Balear gulped. “Where is she now?”

Amroth motioned up the tunnel. “You’d better
see for yourself. Come, and bring that letter.”

As they walked, Amroth said, “This passage
leads to a fort inside Akaku. Rather, it used to. The fort’s in
ruins, and much of the forest around it is burning.”